


Chocolate Cake

by BeneathTheWillowTree



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27883266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneathTheWillowTree/pseuds/BeneathTheWillowTree
Summary: Myka steals Pete's chocolate cake.
Relationships: Myka Bering/Helena "H. G." Wells
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	Chocolate Cake

With a huff, Myka throws off her blankets and sits up muttering, “stupid insomnia.”

Searching briefly for her pajama bottoms or robe and unable to locate either, she reasons that at this unearthly hour no one would likely be awake; and she grabs a book from the bedside table, intending to search out any remainder of Leena's chocolate cake and read until sleepy. Quietly slipping from her room, she evades the creaky floorboards in the hall but pauses sheepishly when the third step groans under her advance. Hearing no stirring, she continues down and into the kitchen.

“Where is that chocolate cake?” Myka mutters into the dim light of the refrigerator.

“I trust you'll find it stashed in the upper left cabinet, behind the oatmeal,” came the unexpected reply.

“Helena!” Myka exclaims with a soft, startled squeak.

She turns to see Helena sitting at the table on the far side of the kitchen, cradling a cup of what she presumes to be tea. Helena, she realizes, was prudent enough to wear a robe. She sighs, thankful that at the very least, Pete isn't the one catching her creeping around the kitchen in a nightshirt that barely covers her backside. Helena rises and saunters to the stove.

“Apologies,” she says, her voice dripping sweet like treacle. “It was not my intention to startle you. Chamomile?”

“It's, it's fine,” Myka stammers. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. I couldn't sleep. Insomnia. Tea sounds nice. Why are you still awake?”

“Likewise, insomnia. I presumed a cup of tea would settle my thoughts,” she explained.

Myka giggles, “Pete's going to be so mad when he finds out his hiding spot has been discovered.”

Helena smiles and turns to pour the hot water into Myka's cup. She glimpses Myka's movements from the corner of her eye as she opens the cabinet and rifles for the cake. Not finding it, Myka lets out a huff and starts to close the door but not before catching Helena's gesture toward the top shelf. She turns again to rummage in the top shelf, rising up on her toes and stretching to feel around behind the oatmeal. Helena watches unabashedly as Myka stretches, causing the hem of her nightshirt to rise slightly and expose her delectable rounded backside and the emerald green lace caressing her soft flesh.

Myka turns quickly, exclaiming, “Ha!” She catches a momentary flash of a wanton gaze as Helena turns aside to pick up the warm mug. Myka falters for a moment before setting the wrapped plate on the counter. Deciding it must have been a trick of the darkened lighting and insomnia, Myka declares, “found it!”

Helena fishes a fork from the silverware drawer and carries both fork and steaming mug to Myka who busies herself with removing the foil Pete had carefully placed over his hidden delicacy. Helena offers the fork, and Myka accepts it – her fingers brushing softly against Helena's in the transfer. Helena stifles a slight gasp at the fire Myka's touch raises in her veins, but not before Myka registers her reaction. An unexpected thrill stirs in Myka's stomach. She doesn't have time to process it as gesturing toward the table, Helena moves to carry the steaming mug. Myka follows behind, suddenly noticing every muscled curve of Helena's form, showing unmistakably through the clinging silk of her pale blue robe. Her lithe and supple form no doubt owed to Helena's regular practice of Kenpo.

Helena sits with her chair turned sideways, leaning into the elbow propped on the table. Myka takes a bite of cake as Helena retrieves her mug and leans back, crossing her legs and causing her robe to fall open across her knees. The cake sticks in Myka's throat as her gaze travels from Helena's fair ankle and along her well-muscled calf. Myka has a sudden urge to run her hand across Helena's smooth skin and grabs her tea mug to choke down both the cake and electrifying desire rising in her core. Myka sets her mug down and stare into the amber liquid, willing the pounding in her chest to still before she can dare to look at Helena.

“Are you troubled, darling?” Helena questions. Myka gasps as Helena's hand covers hers and looks up into her concerned face. “I'm sorry. It seems I do nothing but startle you this night,” she apologizes.

“No,” Myka hoarsely states, covering Helena's retreating hand with her own. “I just... I think it's just...” she struggles to express her thoughts. She looks up at Helena who is closer now, leaning toward Myka. Myka's gaze flickers to where her robe gapes open and she can see a partial swell of Helena's breast. She wonders if Helena wears anything under her robe, but shakes the thought away. With a sigh, she explains, “it's been too quiet. Too easy lately. It makes me wonder what comes next.”

A few moments pass before she speaks, “do not fear, darling. Steve and Claudia are here, Pete's here. And... I'm here - with you. We make a good team.”

Myka sighs and smiles, “We really do, don't we?”

Helena sits back, sipping her tea and studying Myka as she methodically consumes the chocolate cake. Myka feels her bold gaze but deliberately endeavors to savor each tiny sliver on her fork and avoid looking up into Helena's bewitching face. Helena takes the opportunity to brazenly watch as Myka carefully slices thin bits of cake and ferries them into her supple mouth. She imagines how soft and yielding Myka's lips must feel, how hot and wet the depths of her mouth would be when pressed with careful exploration. She can feel her skin flush and her thighs wet with the thought of it.

“May I have a taste,” Helena hoarsely whispers.

“Oh,” Myka responds, stirring from her quiet reverie, “of course.”

Myka looks into Helena's face and is taken aback by the raw, carnal look in her eyes. She gently pushes the plate toward Helena, but instead of taking up the fork, Helena rises from her chair and leans seductively towards Myka until her face is a breath away. Myka feels her pulse begin to pound, her eyes flitting from Helena's eyes, to lips, to the gap at her chest – noticing that Helena definitely did not wear anything beneath her silken robe – and back to Helena's smoldering dark eyes. She moves with excruciating leisure, giving ample opportunity for Myka's protest. None forthcoming, she presses her warm mouth firmly to Myka's soft lips. Myka slowly yields, opening like a spring flower to Helena's probing tongue. She explores Myka's mouth, tasting every inch until Myka groans against her kiss. Myka bashfully trails her fingers up Helena's arms, caressing her neck and exploring her soft face. Her fingers massage the back of Helena's head, slowly pulling her deeper into the kiss. Myka revels in the sensations, taken aback by her own yearning hunger, returning Helena's kiss with a consuming passion.

They break, panting with ravenous desire. Myka gasps as she feels the gentle caress of Helena's hand along her thigh. Myka watches Helena's hand with rapacious fascination as she caresses upwards, her hand slowly pushing the hem of Myka's nightshirt up to expose her hip and a sliver of emerald green, tight against her skin. Her fingertips brush the skin of Myka's hip, turning to slowly press into the soft fold where her thigh meets hip, traveling toward the liquid core between Mykas's thighs. She whines at the combined erotic sight and feel of Helena's hand so near to the flesh quivering for her intimate touch. Suddenly, Helena withdraws her hand and covers Myka's protesting cry with another deep kiss upon her mouth.

She steps back and studies Myka with a sensual perusal, taking in the exquiste picture of Myka's unabashed desire as she looks up at Helena – lips parted and panting for breath. She bends toward Myka and whispers in her ear, “the cake is not all I intend to taste,” before straightening and walking towards the doorway.

Calling huskily, “Myka?”

Myka follows like a sailor towards a siren's call. “I'm coming,” she whispers as she strides to Helena's side.

“Undoubtedly,” Helena giggles with a wicked glint in her eye; and entwining her fingers with Myka's, leads her quietly up the stairs and into her bedroom, locking the door with a decided click.

**Author's Note:**

> I've recently picked up pen and set to paper after a long writing hiatus. This "ship" has me inspired and playing with ideas, words, and situations. I welcome comments and suggestions. Thank you.


End file.
